Pockets of Clouds

Mona Lisa Prima Donna

i want to go look at the stars

My Baby's Crazy

First song for Soulwriter Spring 2019
I have to fly to New Orleans in the morning.
It's real rough and needs to be sung much more.

What if that girl is right
And I don’t see it
And its right in front of my face
What if the time’s tonight
And I don’t seize it 
Just a brush with grace

It’s my pride
That keeps me dissatisfied
There’s a story I tell my self
But it’s true that I lied


Some celestial version 
Of a super heroin
unlikely to condescend 
for me to put my needle in


But how would I know 
How it should be
When all I’ve got is this list
Of who I couldn’t see

What if that girl is right
And I don’t see it
And its right in front of my face
What if the time’s tonight
And I don’t seize it 
Just a brush with grace

I’ve been wrong
And been wrong for so long
A righteous clown who Doubles down 
When the moments gone

And through it all
After I make my fall
The last person standing 
At my curtain call

Is her 


The taste on my tongue is metallic
Telling of terribly plausible fails
Of towers that tumble and 
Embaresing mumbles
And Trains that run off of the rails

Regrettable blunders
Stealing my thunder
A cautionary tale

The cost I am paying
Is the chance to be playing
with the one who’s head hits the  nail

Brush with Grace

Armalite Rifle
Guy Forsyth 6/9/19

Gun metal yodel

Even as a child I knew
I would take a bullet for you 
But In my life I’ve never seen
Someone so lucky grow so mean

I wonder what it was that turned you on
A point and click solution and the problems gone
You always liked your hands clean
And to manifest the promise of a new machine.

Now there’s an Armalite rifle underneath your bed
Brass bright jacket and a heart of lead
Back hand of god, I heard it said
An Armalite rifle underneath your bed

By all accounts your runs been good
No one to tell you what you should
You wear the boots around this town
And no one dares to come around

But in doesn’t look like you had much sleep
and what you get is fast and cheep
And you dream of what they’d do to you
It’s the same as you would too

Now there’s an Armalite rifle underneath your bed
Brass bright jacket and a heart of lead
Back hand of god, I heard it said
An Armalite rifle underneath your bed

The Black rifle has its say
Ends arguments a block away
Falluja streets to sandy hook
It took some and some were took

Blue and Gray, Blue and Red
Misunderstood and overfed
Too much hate to see what you might lose
Not love enough to let you chose

Musicmantis

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